


Cute When Angry

by Witchlight



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Cliche, Coffee Shops, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-18 18:01:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5937784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Witchlight/pseuds/Witchlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barista Dave courts university student Karkat in the only way he knows how: Annoying The Hell Out Of Him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cute When Angry

There was one small, locally owned coffee shop that was five minutes from the dorms and stayed open 24/7. It was even set up with couches and arm chairs, and the sweet owner sometimes shared free cookies with the customers whenever she ‘baked too many’. In other words, it was the perfect midnight hangout and study place for broke college students like Karkat. Or at least it was until they hired the new barista.

He was some too cool for school pretty boy who had probably preyed on Ms. Paint’s bleeding heart to get the job. No way he could get a regular job with those fucking douche shades and ridiculous rambling and the fucking harassment. Because oh yes there was harassment. Because apparently Blondie was too cool to put the goddamn name he was told on coffee cups. Instead, Karkat’s orders were labeled with 'Karkitty’, 'Karkles’, 'Kranky Kat’ - yeah real funny, asshole! Make fun of customers with weird names, that won’t affect business at all!

Each one of the infuriating labels was kept in a box beside his bed. As evidence! With everything he’d gathered, he could probably sue the dipshit into bankruptcy by now. If he had a lawyer. Which he didn’t. And that’s the only reason why he hadn’t sued. Yet.

… Moving on.

It was past three in the morning and Karkat had half an essay still to write that was due at seven thirty the next day. He was tired, cranky - more so tha normal anyways - and of course Doucheface McButthead was the only behind the counter. Already feeling a headache set in, he pauses in the doorway and sorely considers leaving and just getting McDonald’s nasty ass swill instead of dealing with the jackass. But… If there was one good thing about the dickmunch, he did make a great cup of coffee. Which was the only reason Karkat hadn’t switched to another coffee shop.

Closing his eyes, the dark-skinned male heaves a sharp sigh before stalking forward. “I want whatever you have that has the most caffeine you are legally able to put in a cup and screw the taste. My name is Karkat, spelled K-A-R-K-A-T and I swear to all that is good and holy in this world if you fuck my name up or give me one more stupid ass nickname, I will leap over this goddamn counter and do the entire world a favor by strangling you to death, DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?” He’s shouting by the end, and the bell above the door announces the retreat of the only other customer in the store. A very small part of Karkat manages to feel bad about that, but Shades needed to be taken down a notch, so his actions were justified.

… The asshole doesn’t even look fazed as he picks up a cup and starts wordlessly mixing something up. A cup holder is picked up, and the student watches suspiciously as a sharpie scribbles over it. Onto the drink it goes, and it’s passed to him silently. The name is Karkat Vantas. His full name. Spelled correctly. A suspicion reaches him, and he can feel himself tense, the flush of anger rising in his cheeks. “Did you know how to spell my name the entire time?” He asks slowly, teeth gritted.

“Yup.” The P is popped obnoxiously and Karkat has to pause when he realizes it’s the first time he’s ever heard the douche speak. Meanwhile, said douche does’t react other than to grab a rag and start wiping down the counter.

Karkat explodes. “THEN WHY THE FUCK DID YOU KEEP MESSING IT UP, YOU IRRITATING, ANTAGONISTIC, VILE BASTARD?” He slams the cup down on the counter and the lid goes flying along with boiling hot coffee. The blonde, of course, is quick enough to avoid the liquid death trap, but the customer himself has no such luck. A cry, bitten off as soon as he realizes he made the noise, yanking his burned hand to his chest to cradle it.

Barely an instant later, the barista is at his side, swearing softly under his breath and oh, was that an accent? A touch to the scalded skin has him ignoring that train of thought in favor of smacking away the invasive hand - with, of course, his own injured hand. “Fffffuck!” He spits out, shaking his hand as though that would alleviate some of the pain.

Then there’s a hand around his wrist, gently drawing the burned fingers forward so that the blonde could wrap a damp towel around it. “Shit, dude, chill.” He murmurs, and there’s definitely a Southern drawl to his words, which matters jack shit Karkat, focus! “Hold on, we’ve got some burn cream in the back. I’ll be right back.”

The barista - oh shit he doesn’t know the guy’s name, shouldn’t he know the guy’s name by now? - jumps easily over the counter and jogs into the back room only to return with a small tube in one hand. “Okay, here we go.” He mutters, carefully unwrapping the towel before uncapping the cream. “Sorry 'bout that, man. Shouldn’t have messed with ya when ya look like shit already.” His fingers are gentle, and the other male can only grumble token protests as the soothing balm is spread over the reddened skin with care.

Soon, it’s done, and the both of them stand in awkward silence for a long moment before Karkat coughs and takes a few steps back. “I should - I mean, I’ve got an essay to write - uh, bye.” He stumbles over his words, retreating towards the door all the while. The blonde - Dave! There’s his nametag, his name is Dave! - offers a smirk and a nod before turning around. “Wait!” He blurts, and the lanky barista pauses, turns with one brow arched in question. “Why did you mess my name up if you knew how it was spelled?”

There’s a flash of teeth as Dave grins at him for no more than a second. “Because you’re cute when you’re angry.”


End file.
